A few months ago I got a Fit Bit. I was so excited! And then I wasn’t. It’s been collecting dust in a drawer ever since. Well not no more!
After a fun summer of eating, drinking, beaching and overall gluttony – I’m done. For the love of God and my zippers, I’m done.
I’m putting it out there so I can’t back out. From now on, my Fit Bit and I are attached to the hip. Or the wrist. She goes where I go! I’ve assigned her a gender and have already started talking to her. That’s what you do right?
So here I am at the beginning.
0 steps.
0 calories burned.
0 everything.
I’ve got nowhere to go but up. I mean down.
Wish me luck.

I’ve been dying to find out what all the fuss is about. Lots of my blogging buddies juice all the time. One of them recommended a documentary called, “Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead”. So on a rockin’ Friday night – I watched it. It was incredibly inspiring.

Does this mean I’m on a juice fast for 60 days? Ha! You crack me up.

Does this mean I’m on a juice fast for 10 days? No way Jose.

Does this mean I’m on a juice fast for 3 days? Nah.

I like chewing. And I love food. I’d be a sad, miserable person without it. Nobody wants that.

This just means I understand the redeeming qualities of fresh juice and want to incorporate it into our family’s life. You should watch the documentary. It outlines all the benefits of juicing which I won’t go into here. It also makes me want to travel to Australia, but that’s another story.

If my mother knew I had a blog and could get over the personal stuff I share on this blog and was reading my blog today, she’d nod knowingly at this post. My parents have been juicing for years. And for years they’ve been trying to talk us into juicing. Her juices are 80% fruit 20% vegetable – which is the opposite ratio that’s recommended by most doctors, but I’m not telling them that.

So, first step to juicing? Buy a juicer. Here’s the one I got. Notice the placement of the juicer next to the cookie jar. Perfect.

I went with the Breville Juice Fountain Plus – it had the best reviews online and it also happened to be the one they used in the movie. Sorry these pictures are all a bit overexposed or something. I think it’s my inner glow from juicing that caused this. Really.

I did some juice recipe research and spent the weekend buying veggies and fruits. I was telling the kids not to eat the fruit because it was for juicing until I realized how bananas I sounded. I let them eat whatever they wanted. On that note – you cannot juice bananas. Fyi.

I was off and running. I juiced it all! Kale. Spinach. Carrots. Celery. Swiss Chard.

I snuck in some beets too. Don’t tell my husband, he thinks he doesn’t like beets.

Here’s the results…please ignore the Stoudt’s brewery tasting glass…slim pickin around here for drinking glasses. This is the tomato, carrot, beet concoction. Delicious.

This is the spinach, cucumber, ginger and apple combo. Equally good. I strained this juice to get all the little bits out. Then I panicked and thought that maybe I strained all the goodness out so I dumped it all back in.

Tomorrow I’ll be making a watermelon, papaya and mint combo. Exciting times.

This is called planking I think. 20/20 did a report on how it’s all the rage. Do you still watch 20/20? I do, even though I don’t think it’s called that anymore. Apparently you are supposed to snap shots of yourself planking in all kinds of different places.

It looks like excercise to me.

Here’s what my two lunatics were up to – not sure where my husband and I were, but I’m sure we weren’t planking, ahem.

Please note – there are photos below with my kid’s faces on a stove top. No children were harmed in this silliness. Please don’t call anybody.

UPDATE: my son told me this morning, after I’d written the post, that planking is OVER. This was last year and they do not do it anymore. Just so ya know.

All through high school my hair was long. Really long. Down to my butt long. It was wavy and thick and beautiful. The week before I graduated I got it all cut off – thanks to Tasha Fogelman and her continuous peer pressure.

That’s when it all went down hill. My long waves became short frizz.

In college it didn’t matter. No one cared. It was cool to not care.

Then I got my first real city jobs working with city girls. Everyone had straight, sleek hair. I discovered this magical thing called a blow-out. It was so…civilized.

Since then I’ve dedicated a good deal of my life to straightening my hair. Flat square brushes, big round brushes, anti-frizz serum. Those are my friends.

This is a state park near us. We go to walk, to picnic, to lay about – actually that’s what I go for.

My family goes there to bike.

I think I’ve told you before. Haven’t I? It’s no biggie. Everyone has something. Some people can’t eat a peanut. Some can’t have dairy (the horror). Some are diabetic. I too have a debilitating challenge. I can’t ride a bike. Well, technically I may be able to actually ride a bike without killing myself, but I really really don’t want to.

My family tried to have an intervention a couple of years ago. They were horrified for me. My husband lived on his bike throughout his childhood. Both my kids adore their bikes. They gave me a long list of reasons why I’d love it. The freedom! The independence! So I finally caved in and they bought me a fancy bike. Took me out every night to practice. And I tried. I acted excited. I seemed enthused. It was awful.

I don’t like riding a bike. It makes me nervous. It makes me feel out of control. It gives me zero happiness. Freedom and independence are not for me. Sorry.

This causes great sadness in my family. I’m like a traitor among them. An alien. They’ll never be able to ride like a full family.